


The Hunter Edition

by house_of_lantis



Series: Neckz-N-Throats Magazine Stories [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Creative director Peter Hale recruits renown werewolf hunter Chris Argent to pose on the cover of Neckz-n-Throats Magazine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr: http://theserpentgirl.tumblr.com/post/94267782245/hale-publishing-neckz-n-throats-magazine-madison
> 
> You need to see the gorgeous magazine cover created by eaames.
> 
> Other images found on Google Image search.

[](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/HALELOGO.png.html)

**Hale Publishing**

**Neckz-n-Throats Magazine**

**Madison Avenue Offices**

**New York City**

“You’ve got to be kidding. A whole issue dedicated to hunters? Are you out of your mind?” Derek said, glaring across his desk at Peter. “How am I supposed to sell that to our Board? We can’t put a werewolf  **hunter**  on the cover of our magazine and expect the werewolf audience to be okay with that!”

Peter rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of Derek’s desk and smirked, ignoring Derek’s wide eyes, dark eyebrows rising in annoyance. As one of the youngest editor-in-chiefs in the magazine publishing world, Derek was many things – a savvy manipulator of the media, the carefully groomed face of the Hale Publishing empire, and a successful businessman – but he would never be creative enough or edgy enough to take their publications to the next level. That was where Peter made his mark as Creative Director for  _Neckz-n-Throats_. The boy needed to learn to evolve; they were werewolves, but they certainly weren’t  _just_  animals.

“You truly lack imagination, Derek. I’m not suggesting that we show a hunter killing a werewolf on our cover; I merely said that it would be a fascinating issue to spotlight a hunter. The controversy alone will create a buzz. And it’ll titillate the werewolf audience; you don’t give them enough credit. It’s one thing to show a pretty human baring their necks for us, but see a hunter bare _his_  neck? Think of the circulation numbers.”

He could see that Derek was curious; but sometimes his nephew’s pride got in the way of taking Peter’s suggestions seriously. Though Peter didn’t blame his distrust; Derek had witnessed a number of Peter’s merciless attempts at taking more control of Hale Publishing. What could he say? He was an Alpha and a predator, he enjoyed the chase and he wanted power, he was a creature of habit.

“So exactly which hunter are we going to put on our cover? It’s not like there are a lot of photogenic or interesting—“

“Christopher Argent.”

Derek stared at Peter, blinking slowly. “Argent?”

Peter chuckled, folding his hands over his knee. He knew that would get Derek’s attention. The Argents were well known for keeping order and preserving their legacy – the Argent Code – by ensuring peace between werewolves and humans. On the rare occasion that a werewolf did go feral and attack or kill, the Argents were there to enforce the Werewolf-Human Accords, doling out justice and death in equal measure. Their six century-long history of being arms dealers was swiftly legitimized when Christopher Argent took the helm of Argent Industries, cleaned house – including exiling his own father, Gerard, and his younger sister, Kate – and imposed the Argent Code on his loyal hunters.

A hunter’s affiliation and vetting by the Argents was profitable business; the days of mercenaries was long over as only a trusted Argent hunter would be invited to the highest (and, sometimes, the lowest) of werewolf circles. Only a handful of people knew that Christopher Argent was sometimes called in by pack Alphas to personally take care of  _problematic_  pack members discreetly and quietly.

“I have a dinner meeting with him tonight,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m going to invite him to be featured in the September issue, which we can call the Hunter Edition, a special once a year publication. Consider it, Derek, we put Argent on our magazine, and Argent gets to expound on the merits of good werewolf behavior.”

He watched as his nephew that let sink in; leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath.

Derek’s lips curled in distaste. “I don’t know how I feel about letting a hunter tell us how to live.”

“Co-exist in peace; that was the angle I was going for.”

“You’re never this…charitable. What’s in it for you?”

Peter grinned, meeting Derek’s steady gaze. He relished the fact that Derek was finally coming into his own as an Alpha; that he was starting to see through some, but not quite all, of Peter’s games.

“I’m bored with our usual line up of pretty faces with tempting necks gracing our pages. And since you stole my darling little protégé from me—“

“Don’t call Stiles that. He’s  _mine_ , Peter!” Derek growled, giving him a warning glare.

Peter chuckled, holding up his hand. “—yes, yes, we’re all quite aware that Stiles is your mate, you don’t need to show me your teeth. But I should point out that he  **was** my protégé since I discovered him and put him on our pages and his provocative pictures did increase circulation.”

“Noted. Get to the point.”

“ _Neckz-n-Throats_  may focus on werewolf sexuality, but it doesn’t necessarily need to be its only focus. We could increase circulation by widening the scope of our work. And show our commitment to co-existence by luring the infamous Christopher Argent to our magazine first.”

“I can’t imagine that he’d ever say yes. A hunter of Argent’s status wouldn’t lower himself to be on the cover of a werewolf softcore porn magazine.”

“Precisely my point, dear boy. Hale Publishing has the potential to be Playboy Enterprises for the werewolf audience. Having Christopher Argent on the cover legitimizes the magazine, allowing us to move into new fields and target new audiences; we can expand into the development and distribution of new erotic content, products, and high profile events. We can split our company into two distinct categories – one for adult entertainment and the other for marketing a refined werewolf lifestyle.”

“We could leverage Cora’s fashion house,” Derek said, stroking his perfectly groomed chin. “Increase revenue by inviting more upscale advertising.”

Peter sighed, internally, keeping his face composed as Derek reached for a pen and scribbled notes on his desktop blotter.

“And you think that you can sell Argent on this idea.”

“You work with the Board and leave Argent to me.” 

Derek narrowed his eyes. “Why would I do that? I’m the editor, I should be the one to—“ 

“And may I remind you that  **I** am the majority shareholder in Hale Publishing,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Derek. As much as he loved and respected his nephew, Derek was still a young pup to him. He held Derek’s red-tinted gaze. “But we needn’t have to challenge each other on this.”

“Fine, you take care of it then.”

“Besides, Christopher and I are…old friends.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Old friends as in…”

“More like acquaintances; perhaps I’m being too optimistic to be considered a friend.”

“Fine,” he said, sighing. “Just…do whatever it is that you do and…if you mess up, clean it up yourself.” He checked his watch and stood up. “I’m late; give me an update in the morning.”

Peter stood, smoothing down the fabric of his dress slacks. “Of course, you mustn’t keep your delicious little mate waiting.”

Derek stopped at the door and turned, giving Peter a long look. “You know, Stiles is right, you really are kind of creepy when it comes to him.”

Peter smiled and shrugged. “What can I say? He brings it out in me.”

Derek rolled his eyes again and slipped out of the door. Peter leaned against the edge of the desk, tucking his hands into his pockets. It had been years since he last saw Christopher Argent. It was in Paris, about five years now? Talia had asked Peter to go to France to look into opening a European branch of Hale Publishing. As a courtesy, Peter had visited the Argent offices to let them know that an Alpha was in their territory when he met Christopher in the lobby.

_“Alpha Hale; what brings you to my city?”_

_Peter turned and smiled, delighted to finally meet the infamous Christopher Argent. He’d seen plenty of candid and press pictures of the new Argent Patriarch, a handsome man with the tanned and ruddy skin of an outdoorsman; light blue eyes that pictures didn’t do enough justice. He took a deep inhale, scenting him openly – musk and sweat and gun oil residue that was slightly sweet, like an over ripe banana – and saw the man grit his teeth, bristling under Peter’s very obvious perusal._

_“If I had known that you’d be meeting me personally, I might have worn my best suit.”_

_He watched as Chris looked him over, expert eyes measuring Peter quickly. “I might actually be impressed by something like that.”_

_“No, you wouldn’t,” Peter murmured, stepping closer to him. “My sister sends her regards; I’m in town to investigate a business opportunity of opening a European branch of the magazine. Perhaps I could take you to dinner and you could offer me some advice on building solid international relations.”_

Peter stayed for a week, got the paperwork started for expanding Hale Publishing in Paris, shut off his cell phone to spend two unforgettable days with Chris, fucking the human unconscious, in every feasible position he could get Chris into.

He let out a soft growl, feeling his lower belly tighten in remembered pleasure. He ran his hand over the front of his slacks, adjusting his cock, and checked the time. He’d need to head out in order to get across town to the appointed neutral territory for his dinner meeting. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr: http://theserpentgirl.tumblr.com/post/94365140705/this-petopher-fic-was-written-in-the-same

[](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/rareview.jpg.html)

**Rare View**

**303 Lexington Avenue**

 

Perhaps he went a little overboard, renting out the entire rooftop section of the restaurant for just the two of them, but Peter wanted to make an impression. Of course, it wasn’t easy to impress an Argent. Chris Argent wielded enough wealthy and power to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with any Alpha werewolf. The restaurant was on top of the Affinia Shelburne Hotel and the rooftop balcony had an amazing view of the city, the Empire State Building was three streets over, the epicenter of Manhattan’s strength and power. Peter watched as the bright and colorful lights at the top of the building turned from blue to purple to white.

He stood by the balcony wall and looked out at the city, his senses open to life around him. There were only a few moments in his life as a born werewolf that he could appreciate both humankind and werewolfkind; to clearly see that they didn’t need to be at cross purposes. Peter didn’t believe in the segregation of his race; but he wasn’t so naively benevolent to believe that there couldn’t be a time when his kind was forced back into the shadows. He heard Chris’s familiar heartbeat before he heard his light footsteps. He turned, smiling at the older man, taking his time looking him over. His hair was shorter than the last time Peter saw him; he’d shaved recently and was dressed in a casual shirt, dark jeans, and a leather jacket.

“Christopher, thank you for meeting me,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s been a long time.”

Chris stared at his hand for a moment, reaching out to shake it. His hand was warm and calloused, the grip strong and confident. Peter remembered well how Chris’s hands felt. His smile deepened and Chris sighed, letting go of his hand quickly.

“This is a little ostentatious, even for you,” Chris said, calmly.

“Hardly, this is nothing compared to what I would do if I were courting a lover.”

Chris raised his eyebrow, his lips curling into a small smirk.

Peter chuckled, waving his hand for Chris to sit down at their table. The restaurant’s wait staff were well trained, discreet but available, and by the time he and Chris finished their casual chit chat, drinks were provided and a sampler of appetizers were on their table.

“And how is your lovely wife, Victoria isn’t it? And your daughter – Allison?”

Chris sipped his water, blue eyes flicking to Peter. “They’re fine.”

“Allison must be in college now.”

“Princeton.”

Peter nodded. “And are you and Victoria back in the States?”

“Victoria is in Paris heading up our European assets,” Chris said, focused on Peter.

“Oh? And where are you these days?”

Chris sat back in his chair. “What do you want, Peter?”

“Can’t two old friends meet for a meal without it having an ulterior motive?”

He watched as Chris laughed, leaning his head back slightly, revealing the lines of his neck. Peter bit back the desire to lick him. He remembered very clearly where Chris liked to be licked. “If it were anyone else, I might be more open to the simple idea of joining an  _old friend_  for dinner, but not when it comes to you. So, again, what is it that you want from me?”

“A business proposition – no, more important than that – a mutually beneficial alliance.”

“An alliance? What for? We have the Accords; and Argent Industries and Hale Publishing don’t share a common product.”

Peter contained his sigh and didn’t roll his eyes. Why was he surrounded by men without imagination?

“Actually, we do share a common product – we are werewolves and you are a werewolf hunter.”

“Former hunter,” Chris said, frowning slightly. “If you’ve called me here to help you with a  _pack_ issue, I don’t do that kind of wet work anymore.”

“Now, we both know that’s not completely true, but that isn’t why I asked to meet.”

Chris crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then what is it that you think I can do for you?”

 _Besides the obvious?_  Peter wanted to say. Instead, he smiled, nonthreateningly. “I’d like to invite you to be our September cover and to do a series of photographs of you and a very in depth interview.”

Chris stared at him for a long moment and then laughed. “Are you serious? You want  _me_  to be on the cover of your magazine?”

“ _Neckz-n-Throats_  is an established and very popular—“

“I’m not doing porn, Peter.”

“A pity,” he said, smiling. “But that isn’t the point. I want to create an entire issue around werewolf hunters, but you specifically, to discuss issues that are important to both of our kind. You could do outreach directly to the werewolf community, educate them on the Accords and the importance of co-existence, and to be the face of the hunter community, someone that we can relate to.”

“There are other hunters in this so-called hunter community that would prefer I didn’t represent them,” Chris said, softly. “Our legacy is not the only one.”

“But it is the one that is most respected – by both of our kind.”

He watched as Chris nodded, accepting it as fact. “What’s in it for you?”

“For me personally?”

_Ohhhh, Peter wanted to list all the things that were it for him._

“For the Hale pack.”

“You’ve always been perceptive—“

“Don’t patronize me, Peter,” he said, warningly.

Peter grinned, looking up at Chris. “I want to take the magazine to a new direction; something less focused on the porn and more geared towards lifestyle.”

“So having me in your magazine will legitimize this new direction you want to take.”

“As I said, the issue will be dedicated to hunters but focus on you,” he murmured, stroking his chin. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re the Argent Patriarch and that you’re very photogenic.”

Chris looked taken aback, ducking his chin slightly as he dropped his gaze from Peter. He let out a sigh and leaned into his chair, staring off to the side.

“When do you need to know my answer?”

“Before the end of the month. Once the Board approves – and they will – we’ll need time to schedule the photo shoots, assign a photographer, lock down the location, and work with the writing team.”

Chris gave him a look. “You don’t even have approval?”

“I assure you that the Board will approve,” he said, smiling widely at him.

“It’s short notice, but I’ll check my schedule and give you my answer by the end of the week.”

“That’s very doable,” he murmured, casually. “In the meantime, you are more than welcome to visit our offices and speak to my creative team. If you’re planning to stay in town for the duration.”

Chris smirked. “Peter, you’ve always been so transparent.”

“Well, if you need a place to stay…”

“I have an apartment in the city,” Chris said, chuckling.

“Ah, of course you do,” he said, making sure to keep his disappointment off his face.

Chris laughed, louder and deeper, tossing his napkin on the table. “Come on, take me to a werewolf-friendly bar and buy me a drink. I’m going to need a few if we’re going to be working together.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross posted to my Tumblr: http://theserpentgirl.tumblr.com/post/96215546690/part-3-petopher-fic-in-the-neckz-n-throats-verse

[](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/madison.jpg.html)

**Hale Publishing**

**Madison Avenue Offices**

 

Unsurprisingly, it took a couple of weeks for Derek to finish the negotiations for Chris’s appearance in their magazine to the Board, but with Peter’s majority shareholder power and perhaps a none-too-subtle threat to the more reluctant Board members’ _longevity_ on the Board, it was quickly approved and contracts were signed and advanced payments were made.

 

“This better be worth it,” Derek groused, standing next to him in the elevator.

 

Peter smiled. “When have I ever led us in the wrong direction?”

 

Derek gave him a pointed look.

 

“In terms of the direction and success of the magazine.”

 

Derek sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m actually surprised that Argent agreed to do this. It’s not like he needs our money.”

 

“No, but he also sees the need for peaceful co-existence and he’s willing to make the first step. I doubt that there’s enough money in our coffers combined to be able to afford buying that kind of peace of mind.”

 

Peter left Derek with that thought and he returned to his office.

 

“Mr Chris Argent called asking for a Skype meeting,” his assistant said, handing Peter a slip of paper with Chris’s Skype ID. “He’ll be online in about twenty minutes if you are available.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Peter stepped into his office and walked directly to his private bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He brushed back his hair – he needed to go see Rufus for a trim soon – and checked to make sure that there was nothing caught in his teeth, and practiced his smile.

 

He logged into his Skype and saw that Chris was already online. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, waiting for it to connect.

 

Chris came into view on his screen and Peter smiled. “Thanks for meeting me.”

 

“Of course, it’s my pleasure, Christopher.”

 

“I know the photo shoot isn’t for another month, but I wanted to know what you had in mind.”

 

“I do have some ideas that I’d like to run past you,” he said, looking directly into the small web camera on top of his computer screen.

 

“No nudity. Derek said that I needed to have it explicitly stated in my contract when dealing with you.”  

 

Peter laughed, leaning back in his chair, gazing at Chris’s face on his screen. “I actually just wanted to do a series of photographs that showcase you as a man – not an Argent, not a hunter. I don’t expect you to be someone else or something you’re not. As I’ve said before, this isn’t supposed to be pornographic. This edition of the magazine will have a more serious tone, but with splashes of fun, not taking itself too seriously.”

 

“To be honest, I’m relieved. Though I’m not quite sure how much of myself I want to reveal.”

 

“And that can be something that we can discuss with the writer who will interview you. I don’t want this to be an experience that you dislike or will regret, privately or publicly, after the issue comes out. It’s not just about getting you on the cover, though I do admit that it would be a major coup for our magazine, but it means a lot than that and I know you understand what we’re trying to do.”

 

And Peter realized that it did. No one would ever accuse Peter Hale of being benevolent, but he had his moments. He wanted to make a change in his world; remake it into something that _he_ believed in.  

 

Chris stroked his chin, nodding. “Mmmm…”

 

And frankly, Peter was also very curious about the hunter’s private life and looked forward to this opportunity to get to know him better. Despite their week together in Paris all those years ago, Chris played things very close to his chest. And while Peter enjoyed getting a reaction out of him, Chris was a man who didn’t reveal himself easily, even when he was vulnerable in his pleasure. He thought that Chris lived a compartmentalized life: husband, father, businessman, moral compass, peacetime general. Yet, it didn’t ring true to Peter. There was more to Christopher Argent than a simple list of roles; after all, he was a man who also took what he wanted. And if he felt any guilt for their brief liaison, he never showed it.

 

“I’ve been thinking of an on-location photo shoot,” Peter began, looking at the screen. “Something in the woods, perhaps, out in nature.”

 

Chris snorted. “Because that’s the message you want to send – take pictures of a werewolf _hunter_ in the woods. That’s not quite my territorial preference.”

 

“I doubt that my first choice will be taken seriously.”

 

“Why not? Where is it?”

 

As creative director, Peter managed the look and feel of each story and each visual for _Neckz-n-Throats_ , and he had never considered that Chris Argent would allow any of them within spitting distance of any Argent property.

 

“In your house.”

 

He had considered taking pictures of Chris in their studios, sprawled out against a stark white background so that the reader would see him clearly, see him as just a man – albeit a man who commanded a small army of his own – but someone who was without pretentions, without fear, and without anything to hide. He had imagined Chris wearing a sharply cut suit from one of Peter’s favorite designers. Chris rarely wore anything but jeans and a leather jacket. He must have a steady supply of soft, dark colored tee-shirts shirts.

 

He had imagined Chris stripped down to nothing, if he was being honest.

 

But Chris would never agree to anything so cheap; and no one would ever believe that Chris Argent would allow himself to be so naked and vulnerable to werewolves.

 

“I’ll allow you and a small crew to hold the interview and the photo shoot on my ranch in Beacon Hills.”  

 

Peter sat up, narrowing his eyes. “Is this a genuine offer?”

 

Chris laughed. “It’s as genuine as it gets.”

 

“Thank you. I never for once thought—“

 

“Peter,” Chris drawled, leaning closer in on his camera, a hard edged smile on his lips. His tone held a warning and a hint of a threat. “Whatever happens, don’t make me regret this.”

 

***

 

[](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/junoon.jpg.html)

**Junoon**

**27 West 24 th Street **

 

 

It was the kind of media coup that burned up a grapevine.

 

By the end of the day, the city was already talking about the future appearance of Chris Argent on the cover of _Neckz-n-Throats Magazine_. He and Derek were both fielding telephone calls and requests for comments from the press and tabloids, from concerned but excited werewolf advocacy groups, from angry and racist anti-werewolf hunter groups, and from curiosity-seeking magazine readers, so everyone on the magazine staff was put on a media blackout, an official statement, that was approved by Chris, was released by their calculating PR staff and their legion of lawyers.

 

_Hale Publishing is honored to confirm that Christopher Argent, Patriarch of the Argent International Group, will appear in a future issue of Neckz-n-Throats Magazine._

 

It was after eight o’clock at night when Peter met up with Derek and Laura at Junoon, one of Derek’s favorite Indian restaurants in the city, and they were afforded a private booth towards the back of the main dining room. They ordered the tasting menu and two bottles of Wolfsbane-infused spice wines, settling in the comfortable booth to account for their day.

 

“The last Stiles issue ran for a third printing cycle,” Derek announced, smugly. “When we were out to dinner the other night, some tabloid reporter asked if Stiles was going to continue his modeling in NNT and he told them no, he was only going to bare his neck for me, the demand for the issue rose by 64% so I approved a third printing. With that issue, combined with this past quarter, we’re going to see a bump up in our subscription numbers, about a 23% increase.”

 

“Congratulations,” Peter said, nodding at Derek. “I talked to Cora this afternoon and she’s excited to be featured in the Hunter edition. _House of Hale_ is planning to purchase a four-page spread in the issue with fashion from her new spring line. Marketing is going to finalize the paperwork for us.”

 

Derek stared at him. “She’s going to give us first look, not _Vogue_?”

 

Peter smiled. “She’s family.”

 

“Speaking of family, mom said you should let me do a series of you and Stiles together,” Laura told him. “Although, if you ask me, she just wants to have her own set of professional photographs of the two of you, so she can hang them in her office.”

 

Derek made a pained face. “You’re my sister; I’m not getting naked in front of you with my mate. And why on earth would mom want pictures of us like that?”

 

Peter laughed. “Talia still shows naked baby pictures of you to her clients. The full frontal ones.”

 

Derek groaned, rolling his eyes. “She does not. Does she?”

 

Laura rolled her eyes. “Did you hear me say naked at any point in my sentence? No. I said, to let me take a series of the two of you. It’s a good idea. I think our magazine readers would actually like to see the lovely Stiles happily baring his neck to his Alpha.”

 

Peter grinned, dreamily. “ _Mmmmm_ , I agree. I think that is a wonderful idea.”

 

Derek raised his eyebrow at Peter and growled lowly under his breath.

 

“Thank you, Uncle Peter,” she said, primly, and then stuck her tongue out at Derek.

 

“That’s very mature,” Derek drawled, shaking his head. “I know it’s a good idea, but Stiles and I are private people. We don’t want to flaunt our relationship in public.”

 

Peter respected that; respected the nature of mates. And for all they teased Derek on his former bachelorhood, the family was ecstatic that Derek had finally settled down. Being an Alpha and having a mate seemed to have steadied some of Derek’s more aggressiveness, channeling it into his work rather than at other people.

 

“Did you have someone in mind for the Argent photo shoot?” Laura said, digging into the duck lollipop. “I can be available if you haven’t.”

 

Peter wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. “As much as I admire your talents and skills, Laura, I feel that it’s time for my return to the profession.”

 

Derek and Laura stared at him. They were looking at him as if Peter had announced he was giving up his Alpha status.

 

“It wasn’t that long ago when I was in front of and behind the lens. I do have an exacting eye for how things should look in our magazine.”

 

“You want to do the photo shoot?” Derek said, frowning slightly. “But why? You’ll have complete control over everything.”

 

“My past relationship with Christopher makes me the best candidate in getting what I want from him,” he said, simply. “In terms of the _end product_ , of course.”

 

Laura snickered. “ _Uh-huh._ Especially if the end product is to get in Chris Argent’s bed again.”

 

“I don’t know. It sounds like it might be a conflict of interest – at the very least you’ll be doing double duty of being photographer and creative director.”

 

“I do know how to run a shoot and handle a camera, it’s called multi-tasking.”

 

“And I’m not saying that you don’t,” he said, making a pained face. “But…it’s just that…”

 

“I would only require Erica’s assistance with hair and make-up. I can take my own equipment. Chris has graciously invited us to his home in Beacon Hills.”

 

Laura let out a whistle. “Holy shit, no way.”

 

“Yes way.”

 

“You know Chris is divorced now, right?” She said, cocking her head and looking at him. “It was finalized earlier this year. They kept it quiet, of course, and it was an amicable split, from what I’ve heard. Victoria runs the European branch and Chris is back on the west coast.”

 

He did _not_ know and he was quite surprised.

 

“You didn’t know?” Derek said, frankly.

 

“I don’t keep up with the gossip.”

 

Derek and Laura exchanged looks; Derek grinned. “It might be the reason why he’s made it so easy for you to court him.”

 

“And a guy like Chris? Because of his status, you can’t just fuck around with him or do anything as lame as date him. You’re going to have to work for it, Uncle Peter,” she said, smirking at the look on Peter’s face.

 

“Court him?” Peter said, setting his fork down on his plate. He couldn’t possibly consider it; it was too dangerous to even think about. A werewolf and a hunter? Mated? It was preposterous. They were great as one-time lovers, though if Peter had his way it wouldn’t be just one time, but for something more? Something with commitment? “Court _him_.”

 

Derek groaned and shook his head. “This is going to end so badly.”

 

Laura laughed so hard she started snorting in a most unladylike manner and nearly fell out of the booth.


	4. Chapter 4

[](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/ranch.jpg.html)

**Argent Ranch**

**Beacon Hills, California**

 

 

The ranch sat on 120-acres of prime California land; and Peter was surprised to find that it was a working ranch with 80 heads of cattle and 12 horses, assorted farm animals. Peter was no stranger to living close to the land – the Hales still owned their home and property in the Preserves; had donated the surrounding woods to the town when they moved to settle in the major cities, with the stipulation that the Hale homestead would stay in their name – but the Argent property was undeniably impressive. There was a wonderful partnership between tall green grasses and flat dusty pathways; and from the images from Google Earth (of course Peter mapped it while they were on their long flight across the country), they even had a small lake on the property. It was idyllic in the best sense; and Peter wondered at their shared love for the land. 

 

Not only that, but to share it with Peter…

 

 _It might be the reason why he’s made it so easy for you to court him_ , Derek had said.

 

Could it be true? Chris was not married now and from every single account he could find on gossip sites and tabloids, Chris Argent was a most eligible bachelor. And to invite Peter to his homestead – his _den_ – he didn’t take that invitation lightly; no one outside the pack was ever invited to a den and no hunter would ever risk exposing their home to werewolves.

 

Both of them understood this; it was ingrained in them, nearly instinctual.

 

And they would have access to Chris’s home, to his territory.

 

It _had_ to mean something. Was Chris _really_ making it easy for Peter?

 

If so, _why_ would he?

 

 _If_ this was Chris’s way of getting Peter off his guard, it was certainly a tactic that was working.

 

“Your homestead is beautiful, Christopher,” Peter said, offering the best kind of compliment that he could offer without crossing the line. “I’ve not seen a lovelier territory, not even the Hale Preserves.”

 

“Thanks, high praise from a Hale Alpha. We believe in sustainable ranching,” Chris said, leaning against the corral wall, watching as his ranch hands broke in a new horse. “We eat what we grow; feed the cattle organic foods; recycle pretty much everything that we can, one way or another.”

 

“Impressive,” Peter murmured, smiling at him. “And how do you protect against predators?”

 

Chris laughed, giving him a sidelong glance. “We shoot them, of course.”

 

Peter growled, completely offended. “Excuse me?”

 

“We tranq them and move them to a sanctuary where they are relocated. _Alive_ , Peter.”

 

“ _Hmmmm_.” He pursed his lips and tucked his hands into his jeans, heading back to the main house. “Anyway, in regard to the photo shoot, I thought that we could do a series of you inside the house – perhaps in your study—“

 

“Actually, I’d like it if you did the series in my kitchen. In my family, cooking together and sharing that space is a tradition,” Chris said, keeping his pace even with Peter’s.

 

“Yes, I do like the natural light coming into the kitchen; and it would be great to see you behind the stove. Perhaps you could even make us lunch as part of your photo shoot; for the sake of reality and so food doesn’t go to waste.”

 

Chris opened the door to the kitchen and rolled his eyes. “Fine. How do you like your steaks?”

 

“Rare,” he murmured, passing Chris slowly, eyes flaring bright blue.

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

Peter chuckled and called for Erica. “We’ll shoot in the kitchen while Christopher makes our lunch.”

 

“That’s perfect,” she said, putting her make up bag on a table. “Can I set up here or did you want to use this space as part of the shot?”

 

Peter turned, looking at the kitchen as Chris moved elegantly in the spacious area, gathering ingredients, getting the steaks from the fridge, moving around in his natural environment. “I want to focus on Christopher by the stove and the counter there, so you’ll be fine.”

 

“Cool,” she said, opening her case and gathering her supplies. “Mr. Argent, I’m not going to put a lot of make-up on you, just even out your skin tone under the lights, and maybe dab off some sweat.”

 

Chris smiled at her. “That’s fine, whenever you’re ready.”

 

Peter nodded and then walked through the hallway to the foyer where he had left his lights and his camera bag. He unpacked everything efficiently as Erica worked on Chris, joking with him and making him chuckle, making him comfortable. Chris wasn’t an amateur and had spent his whole life in the public eye; but it was one thing to be photographed in a studio and something else altogether when it was in his own home. Peter respected that vulnerability; and while he might take advantage of Chris in his natural habitat, he wasn’t going to take advantage of Chris’s vulnerability.

 

He set up the two light stands and attached the diffusers, moving them around the space that would best light Chris. He would need Erica to hold the collapsible reflectors, try to bring more natural light to reflect off Chris’s face.

 

“Christopher, would you show us where you’ll stand?” Peter said, holding up his light reader, keeping an eye on Chris as he moved near the stove and counter. “Okay, good, try to stay within that range if you can. Erica, would you do the honors of holding the reflector on him?”

 

“Sure,” she said, holding the circle reflector in her hands. She adjusted it so that she could reflect the natural light coming in from the windows at Chris. “How’s that, Peter?”

 

“That’s very good,” he said, checking his camera settings, making sure that they complemented the readings from the light reader. “Okay, Christopher, we’re just going to take some random shots, so feel free to move around. I’ll ask you to look up at me a few times or tilt your head, but other than that, you can completely ignore us.”

 

Chris chuckled as he started working around the stove, taking down the cast iron pan from the hanging rack and starting up his gas stove. “I doubt that anyone could ignore either of you.”

 

“Awww, Mr. Argent, you say the sweetest things,” Erica said, smiling widely at him.

 

Peter began taking a few shots, just to get started. He chuckled at Erica, “now, now, don’t make him blush, it’ll ruin the shot.”

 

Chris rolled his eyes and Peter snapped a shot, giving him a wide grin from behind the camera.

 

“I didn’t know that you were a photographer,” Chris said, checking the heat coming from his pan and then unwrapping the steaks on the counter.

 

Peter took a series of quick shots. “I used to help Talia with our family photo shoots when we were just starting out. She said that I could apply my _bossiness_ in a more productive manner.”

 

Erica laughed, her voice rich and low. Peter made a face at her and took a picture of her as well. She shrieked and quickly turned away. “Peter, no! I don’t have my face on! That picture better not show up anywhere in public or I’ll get you.”

 

Peter smiled. “Please adjust the light, Erica. Ah, thank you.”

 

He watched Chris through his camera eyepiece. Even though he used a digital camera, he kept the screen closed, relying on his own spatial senses and his eye through the lens to capture the shots that he wanted. It made it more intimate; kept him emotionally connected to his subject.

 

Chris wasn’t self-conscious; he wasn’t a man of vanity. He moved efficiently around the kitchen, staying within the range requested, and was relaxed and casual as he chatted with Erica. He obeyed Peter’s directions, turning his shoulders slightly or lifting his chin while he concentrated on cooking. Peter followed his movements, even taking pictures of Chris’s hands as they handled cutting vegetables, graceful and strong hands, knowledgeable and practiced with the sharp knife.

 

Peter paused, watching intently as Chris honed the blade on the sharpening steel, and decided not to distract Chris. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a good picture to take – a hunter showing his proficiency with a blade – and Chris smirked at him as he wiped the knife clean with a towel, putting it back into its slot on the knife block.

 

“Lunch will be ready in about five minutes, I just need to let the steaks rest,” he said, setting out three plates, divvying the grilled vegetables, and pressing his pinky into the steaks to test the firmness.

 

“All right, I think we can break here,” Peter said, taking the camera strap from off his neck and setting the camera inside the cushioned bag.

 

“Everything smells so good, Mr. Argent,” Erica said, setting the reflector down and walking around the counter. “Can I help with anything?”

 

“Sure, how about if you grab some glasses from the cabinet there,” Chris said, motioning to the glass cabinet behind him. “What does everyone want to drink?”

 

Peter leaned against the counter, watching as Chris placed each steak perfectly on the plate. “How about some red wine?”

 

“Ohhh yeah,” Erica said, setting the glasses on the counter. “Do you just want to eat here?”

 

“Sure,” Chris said, opening a drawer and taking out three forks and three knives, handing them to Peter. He set the table as Chris placed the first plate in front of Erica, carrying the other two towards Peter. “I don’t have the right kind of Wolfsbane to put in the wine, though.”

 

“It’s probably for the best,” Peter murmured, raising his eyebrow. “The last thing you’d want on your hands is two drunk werewolves and a camera.”

 

Erica sat on the other side of the counter, giving Chris the middle seat between them. She winked at Peter, unnoticed by Chris. “Besides, we can still enjoy the taste of a good wine.” She inhaled deeply at the steak and vegetables, letting out a loud moan. “ _Ohmygod,_ Mr. Argent, this smells incredible. Peter, doesn’t it smell so good?”

 

“It certainly does. My compliments to the chef.” Peter nodded his appreciation, keeping his mouth firmly closed to prevent Chris from seeing him drool.

 

The smell of the meat was incredible; the only thing better would’ve been to have chased after a strong buck in the woods, take it down with fangs and claws – a fresh kill always tasted the best, the meat tangy raw. The only _human_ thing that Peter could compare it to was stalking a potential bed mate in a city and then taking him or her home, fucking them senseless, and afterwards, feeding them a hearty meal.

 

They were werewolves; predators _and_ killers. And Peter had a true appetite for _certain_ instincts.

 

Chris grabbed a bottle of red from the pantry, setting it on the counter to open it. “Good. Bon appetit.”

 

“So, Mr. Argent, what do you do for fun around here?” Erica said, grinning widely up at him. “You and all those handsome cowboys.”

 

“Aside from ranching? There’s not a lot of free time.”

 

“If you weren’t a werewolf hunter—“

 

“I’m actually retired,” he said, softly. “Between running our companies and the ranch—“

 

“Come on, it’s just us, you don’t have to give us the PR spiel. Seriously, what would you do if your life went in a different direction? If you weren’t the Argent Patriarch,” she said, earnestly.

 

Peter perked up, he was interested to know as well.

 

Chris looked at her for a long moment and smiled. “I would be an architect. You know, when I was a kid, we used to move around a lot and one of the things I used to do was build the new house that we were in out of cardboard and popsicle sticks. But I’d try to be creative and change the rooms around, put in a secret room or add in a tower or a swimming pool – I used to always wish we had a swimming pool – and my mom would pack up my little houses every time we had to move and then hand me a box of sticks when we got settled in a new place so I could make another stick house.”

 

“What happened to all of those houses?”

 

“Oh, I think my dad threw them out when I joined the family business—“

 

Erica made an affronted noise. “No way! What a jerk!” She made a face. “Sorry, I know he’s your dad and all…”

 

“Gerard was a pragmatic man, albeit to an extreme, but he believed in…what he believed in.”

 

“You still exiled him. Your dad and your sister,” she ventured, her voice soft and tentative. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

 

Chris set his fork and knife down and turned to look at her. “I couldn’t allow them to keep doing what they were doing. I follow the Code; and anyone who signs up with me or has a stake in my business or anything that my name touches, they have to prove to me that they also follow the Code. It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of world we’d live in, if Gerard and Kate were allowed to continue working outside the law.”

 

Peter remembered Talia talking about how dangerous Gerard Argent was to the fragile peace between hunters and werewolves. And he wasn’t even the worst of them, but being an Argent, and how that name took on a life and a legacy of its own, paved the way for Gerard and his daughter to commit atrocities against their kind. No one knew how many innocent werewolves he and Kate had killed; how many packs and families they burned down and destroyed. Peter couldn’t imagine that kind of loss; he was certain he’d probably go insane if he ever survived such a thing happening to his pack. The only thing that kept the two Argents out of the human courts was that they only killed werewolves. The Werewolf-Human Accords needed amending to afford werewolves justice when they were targeted and attacked without proof.

 

The Hales were born Alphas, but Talia was their pack Alpha. Peter remembered hearing stories of Christopher Argent. He knew that many of them were embellished, certainly Chris was accomplished but he was no super soldier. But there was also a nugget of truth to Chris’s past. He wasn’t raised to be a soldier, but a true hunter, practically an assassin. Before his “retirement,” Chris was a pack Alpha’s executioner. No money was ever exchanged – Chris was no lowly mercenary or a simple-minded killer ruled by bloodlust – but secret pacts were forged between the pack Alpha and the Argents. He would take care of their special problem and they would endeavor to keep their packs in line. Peter always wondered if Talia had ever requested Chris’s special services and which, if any, of their Hale pack members were ever put down. He wondered if Chris would tell him if he asked.

 

He and Derek had worked with the Editorial Staff and handpicked their best two writers to co-write the piece on Christopher Argent. He had met with the writers, several weeks ago in New York City, and after a period of four intense days, where the writers were half in love with Chris, they had returned to their offices with over 56 hours of recorded sessions. Peter had requested, cajoled, and threatened the entire Editorial Department for a copy of the sessions, but Derek had a contract with the Argent lawyers that they would not release, duplicate, or keep the recorded sessions. The two writers had signed special non-disclosure contracts and turned over their digital recordings to the lawyers and the recordings were immediately destroyed.

 

_Ahhh, c’est la vie._

 

Erica met Chris’s eyes; his heartbeat never changed. She smiled and nodded, accepting that Chris was telling the truth.  

 

“Did you design this house, Christopher?” Peter said, leaning against the counter and watching him.

 

Chris’s face seemed to lose a lot of his natural guardedness; he could see Chris as a young boy, playing with sticks and glue on the floor of his bedroom, concentrating on getting every detail right.

 

“I did,” he said, softly, pride echoing in his words. “It took me a year to work on the plans. When I bought the ranch and the property, it was in pretty rough shape, and it took me about ten years to get it to where it is now.”

 

“It’s a gorgeous house,” she told him, nodding. Peter murmured his agreement. “And I bet you have a swimming pool here.”

 

“Two; one indoors and one outdoors,” he said, chuckling.

 

Peter chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “Surely, there must be _something_ that you do to release stress.”

 

Chris gave him a sidelong look, a small smirk curling the corners of his lips. “If you want to know, I like to take my motorcycle out and just ride her down the coastal highway.”

 

“Really?” Peter drawled, curiously. “What kind of motorcycle do you ride?”

 

“Depends on the terrain, I have a few of them,” he said, looking at Peter, eyes narrowing slightly. “But my favorite for street riding is the Honda CB360.”

 

“Hmmm…1975?” He said, guessing, but playing it off as casually as possible.

 

Erica smirked, rolling her eyes at Peter. He’d have to speak to her about that later; though he was pleased that she kept her reactions out of Chris’s eye line.

 

Chris looked at him in surprise. “It’s a 1976.”

 

“That was the last year that Honda produced the 360. Four stroke, twin cylinder? It must’ve been difficult to find the parts. You’d either need to know the CEO at Honda Motorcycle or beg, borrow, or steal it from another 360 owner.”

 

“Yeah, it took me years to track down all the parts that I needed to restore her. I actually had to get a few of them recreated by some engineers, but I rebuilt her engine myself. Don’t tell me that you ride.”

 

Peter chuckled, cutting into his steak. “There are a lot of things that I enjoy riding.”

 

Erica snorted, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

 

Chris gave him a pained look but Peter just grinned, shrugging. “You have to admit that you set that up _perfectly_ for me.”

 

“Touché,” Chris said, grinning, as he shook his head.

 

 

***

 

After much prodding by Peter and wheedling by Erica, Chris took them to what looked like a renovated barn that Chris said he used as his workshop to show them his motorcycle collection. Peter was pleased to note that Chris was just as obsessively controlled of his motorcycles as anything else in his life. There were two sport motorcycles, thick tires ready for the rough terrain of the ranch and the outlying desert; another vintage Honda that was in the process of being restored; a work table and a wall of tools lined up neatly; a number of motorcycle parts in various repair; and the beloved 360 with her black and red body, black leather seat, well maintained, but not so clean that it looked out of place.

 

“I think this is a great location,” Erica murmured, looking over at Peter.

 

He needed to give her a raise; and the shrewd young woman knew it. He had to admit that Erica Reyes was his favorite partner-in-crime. They shared similar tastes and a strong penchant to go after the things that they wanted.

 

“I agree,” he said, smiling at Chris. “How about it, Christopher? The hunter in his natural habitat?”

 

“It’ll certainly humanize you,” she added, giving Chris her most serious look. “And it’ll go well with your interview in the magazine. Most of us – werewolves, I mean – have a healthy fear and respect for hunters like you, Mr. Argent, but it’s not like we can connect with hunters on any kind of common level. So something like this, it’s a very rare look into _the_ hunter’s life, kind of like, ‘the Argent Patriarch isn’t so different, he likes to cook, he likes working on his motorcycles,’ maybe we can relate to you, and maybe in the future, hunters can relate to us werewolves, too.”

 

Chris watched them for a moment. “You’re laying it on a little thick, Erica, but I understand where you’re coming from. For the record, it’s been a long time since legitimate hunters took down a werewolf without some kind of judicial review or pack Alpha approval. With the exception of hunters like Gerard and Kate, most of us _do_ relate to werewolves; we share our humanity. But it’s fine; I don’t mind showing this part of my life. And besides, I’m pretty proud of my ladies.”

 

Peter set down the lights, looking around the space. “If we open up all the windows and the main doors there, we should be able to capture some of the afternoon light before we lose it all together. Erica, would you help Christopher?”

 

“Sure,” she said, smiling widely at Chris as she bounced across the room to the windows.

 

Chris smiled to himself, watching her, and turned to catch Peter’s curious glance. “She reminds me of Allison; same sense of fearlessness.”

 

“I’m certain both are a force of nature,” he said, agreeably. He could see Erica smiling to herself as she opened the wooden shutters.

 

Perhaps Peter needed to pay her more attention; to see if she was looking to be something more than a make-up artist and expand her role in their pack.  

 

He set up the lights as Chris and Erica worked together to open the shutters to the garage and Chris pulled the large doors open, locking them in place. Half of the workshop was in shadow while pure sunlight flooded the front half of the room. He set up one of the lights in the shadows, especially by the motorcycle that still needed restoration. He checked the light in the meter and adjusted his camera aperture, tossing the strap over his neck.

 

“Damn, smeared oil from the door all over my shirt,” Chris said, looking at his clothes. “Hang on a sec, I have another shirt in here somewhere.”

 

Peter tracked him, unobtrusively raising the camera as Chris moved around the space, pulling off his tee-shirt and wiping his hands on the cotton. He snapped off a few shots, catching one where Chris was looking up at him, one hand wrapped around the shirt to wipe at his forehead. His worn jeans hung low on his hips, showing the lines of musculature of his chest and abs. The Argent Patriarch wasn’t a soft-bellied man who ruled his empire from behind a desk in a nice suit; this was a hunter who had honed and tempered his body as a weapon.

 

“That’ll be a nice shot,” he murmured, seeing Erica nod her head, nothing but professional interest on her face.

 

 _Damn_ , he really needed to get to know Erica a little better.  

 

Chris snorted in amusement, meeting Peter’s gaze head on. His eyes were so vividly blue, a trick of the light causing them to glow like a werewolf’s eyes.

 

He thought that it would be a rather striking picture in black and white; but Peter would keep a copy for himself in color, capturing Chris’s eyes.

 

“I’m pretty sure I signed a contract that stated no porn,” Chris said, giving Peter an exasperated but entertained look.

 

He laughed. “Sadly, your pants are still on, Christopher.”

 

He held down the shutter button, catching an entire series of Chris walking across the garage and grabbing a new shirt. Erica followed him, dabbing at his face lightly with a tissue, a touch of powder, and Peter enjoyed the way that Chris was calm with her, almost trusting. They chatted softly, ignoring Peter as he took a few more shots.

 

This session was different for them. In the kitchen, Chris was distracted with preparing their meal, but he was comfortable in Peter’s eyes. In the workshop, he wasn’t nearly as comfortable, tugging on the hem of the clean tee-shirt, eyes flicking away from the camera before the shutter engaged.

 

Peter paused, lowering the camera for a moment. “Erica, dear, would you go into the house and bring some water for Christopher?”

 

“No problem, boss,” she said, giving Peter a very knowing look as she left the garage to head for the main house.

 

Chris leaned against the work table, tapping his fingers against the wood surface. “Trying to get me alone?”

 

“I just thought you’d be more comfortable with me.” Peter said, raising the camera and slowly walking towards him. He stopped and took a series with Chris smiling at him, chin ducked but eyes rising to meet his through the lens. “Perhaps you’d like to remove your shirt again.”

 

“Don’t objectify me,” he said, laughing. Peter smiled as he took a few shots.

 

“That’s much better,” he murmured, finding a different angle. “You’re very photogenic.”

 

Chris rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Peter.”

 

“Do I need to flatter you, darling?”

 

“Do you really think I’m that easy?” Chris said, turning his head to look at Peter.

 

He thought about their first meeting in Paris; the first time he took Chris to bed. How they both tussled to be on top, laughing easily as they took turns. Peter was surprised to learn that Chris liked laughing in bed. Peter knew he would be a passionate lover, but that he was also playful and full of good humor. Peter had never before laughed so much with a bedmate than the two days that he spent with Chris in Paris.

 

“There is _nothing_ easy about you, Christopher Argent.” He looked over the top of the camera and winked at him. “And it wasn’t flattery, it’s the truth. You have some very lovely facial angles.”

 

“Pfft!”

 

They shared a laugh that was full of camaraderie and Peter stopped, holding the camera in his hands.

 

“So what are your plans for tonight?”

 

Chris raised his eyebrow. “There’s a lot of work to do on a ranch. Don’t tell me you’re interested in learning how to ranch. The boys would chew you up.”

 

“I may be a werewolf but I’m a civilized one.”

 

“A civilized one, huh?”

 

Peter watched as Chris pushed off the work table and prowled across the room towards him, slow strides, surefooted, very much an Alpha. He thrilled at the idea of being Chris Argent’s prey and he smiled, waiting for Chris to come to him, excited and curious at Chris’s next move.

 

“Whoops,” Erica whispered, walking right back out of the garage.

 

Peter sighed; Chris moved away, slightly flushed.

 

“Well, I guess that’s a wrap,” he said, peering over at Peter. “Unless you needed more?”

 

“I have everything I need for now.”

 

Chris nodded. “Good. Okay, well, let me help you get the lights and I’ll get one of the boys to take you back to your hotel.”

 

He watched as Chris quickly and efficiently broke down the light stand, folding the legs and locking them in place. Was there anything that the man did that wasn’t competent or efficient? Peter hadn’t realized that he had this kink until he met Chris Argent.

 

They walked in companionable silence back to the main house where Erica was packing up her make up bag. She smiled apologetically at Peter, but he waved her off. Chris walked them through the house to the front door where he whistled at the three men standing nearby.

 

“Mitch! Can you take them back to town?”

 

“Sure thing, boss!”

 

“Thanks!”

 

“Well, Christopher, thank you for your hospitality and for allowing us to photograph you in your home,” Peter said, holding out his hand.

 

Chris shook it firmly. Peter could feel Chris’s pulse racing against his fingertips. “It was my pleasure. Thanks for coming out.”

 

Erica rose up on her tiptoes and hugged him. “Thanks, Mr. Argent, it was lovely to work with you.”

 

He patted her on her back. “I’m glad you were able to visit, Erica.”

 

A burgundy pick-up truck pulled up beside them and Mitch came out of the vehicle to help Peter load up the back of the truck bed with his supplies. Chris held the front door for Erica, helping her get settled into the seat.

 

“Safe travels home, both of you,” Chris said to her and then looked at Peter.

 

There was definitely something in Chris’s eyes. It was up to Peter to do something about it.

 

“I hope we’ll get to meet again _soon_ , Christopher.”

 

Peter got into the back seat and smiled at Chris, who tapped the roof of the truck, signaling for Mitch to get going.

 

***

 

It was late by the time Peter returned to Argent Ranch, his senses heightened under the light of the moon. He prowled through the wooded area and along the grass, the main house just a few yards away. He scented the air, his ears alert to the sounds of life in the not-so-quiet night. Between the animals making curious noises in the stalls, the boys in the bunkhouse talking and laughing, and with their music playing, the ranch was even livelier than before.

 

He filtered through his hearing until he focused on the beat of one heart; and realized that Chris wasn’t tucked in bed but was in his workshop, the light spilling through the opened windows, instrumental jazz coming from the building.  

 

Peter walked stealthily towards the workshop and looked through one of the windows to see Chris standing at the work table, shirtless, busy with repairing one of the engine pieces. He smiled, taking his time looking at the clean lines of Chris’s back, the tanned, freckled skin, warm and brown and pink. He was strongly built, barely any fat, lean ropes of muscles from working on the ranch. He wasn’t meant to sit behind a desk, but to be out in the wilds, free from the chains of his position.

 

Chris raised his head, turning slightly. “Are you just going to leer at me in the dark or come inside?”

 

Peter chuckled, stepping through the opened door. “You couldn’t have possibly heard me.”

 

“I know the sounds of my land well enough,” he said, picking up a small wrench and tightening a small bolt. “Besides, I knew you’d probably drop by.”

 

“Did you?”

 

Chris chuckled. “I think we still have some unfinished business between us.”

 

Peter walked behind him, putting his hands on either side of Chris, gripping the edge of the table. He leaned closer and brushed his nose against the back of his neck, inhaling deeply. Chris set the engine part on the table, his hands flat on the surface.

 

“Shouldn’t you wait to be invited?” Chris said, voice low and deep.

 

Peter closed his eyes and scented him – sweat, oil, grass, he smelled of horses and cattle, stirring the werewolf predator in Peter, a faint hint of sandalwood behind his ears from his shower product. His skin was damp, heating up from the beginnings of his arousal.

 

Chris bent his head forward, just submissive enough to make Peter growl in delight. He pressed closer against Chris’s back and let out a soft noise when Chris relaxed against him.

 

“You did invite me inside.”

 

Chris chuckled and Peter joined him, letting Chris turn around. “It’s been awhile since…”

 

“Over five years. Don’t tell me that you didn’t venture out to—“

 

“I didn’t…I hadn’t, with anyone, not until you.”

 

Peter frowned slightly. “Please don’t tell me that our affair in Paris ended your marriage, Christopher.”

 

“No, nothing like that. Victoria and I are good, we always will be. I haven’t been with another man—“

 

Peter kissed him, growling softly against his lips. The last thing he wanted to hear out of Chris’s mouth was of him talking about his ex-wife or of _other_ men. He felt Chris’s hands curl around his waist, pulling Peter closer. They shifted naturally and Peter put his hands on Chris’s arms, sliding his palms up and over his shoulders, one hand weaving through the short strands of his hair towards the top, just enough to grab a handful. He tugged Chris’s head back and felt the vibrations of his soft laugh, licking up the long arch of his neck, nipping and pressing his teeth against his throat. He tongued along the vein, feeling Chris’s pulse quicken, the sharp hiss of his inhale.

 

Chris’s hands curled around Peter’s neck, pulling him back up for a kiss, his tongue slipping into Peter’s mouth. He moaned when Chris ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth; it made Peter want to lower his fangs and give Chris something else to lick.

 

He slipped his hands between them and jerked open the buttons to Chris’s jeans, pushing him back so that he was leaning against the edge of the table. Peter kissed down Chris’s chest, stopping to lick and bite at each of his nipples, smirking when Chris let out a throaty sound, his hands dipping into Peter’s hair.

 

“I remember how you taste. I would be in my office or in a meeting, and I’d remember your scent,” Peter murmured, mouthing against his belly as he made his way down to his knees. He looked up to see Chris watching him, tugging his jeans down to his thighs. He was glad Chris wasn’t wearing anything else. He smiled, rubbing his chin over the head of Chris’s cock, his hands feeling Chris’s thighs trembling in anticipation.

 

Chris watched as Peter mouthed his balls, licking from the root to the tip, carefully lapping the taste of his pre-come. He wasn’t hard all the way yet, but Peter wasn’t in any hurry. He’d have Chris crying out and begging for him soon enough. He sank his mouth over the head and sucked him in, slowly, feeling him heavy on his tongue as he looked up to see Chris’s face, flushed at his chest and rising up his neck to his cheeks.

 

Peter took his time. He moved his head back and forth, savoring the feel of Chris hardening, thickening, lengthening inside of his mouth. He moaned and closed his eyes when he felt Chris’s hands tighten in his hair, tugging at him urgently.

 

“Peter…”

 

“ _Mmmmm…”_ was the only sound he made, opening his eyes and looking up again to see Chris with his mouth parted, tip of his tongue running along his upper lip, panting shallowly, hands curling around Peter’s face, fingers tracing his ears. One of his hands cupped the back of his neck, the other falling to his side and curling into a fist.

 

_So controlled, this hunter, so utterly and unnecessarily controlled._

 

But Peter remembered what he liked, what got Chris hot, what got him off. He watched, palms sliding up the back of Chris’s thighs, scratching through the dark, wiry hair, to squeeze his ass, pulling him in deep, deeper, until he felt the head of Chris’s cock slide into his throat.

 

“Jesus, God.”

 

He took Chris even deeper.

 

“Oh shit, Peter!”

 

And swallowed, his throat squeezing and fluttering around the head.

 

Chris’s hand held him still, face pressed against Chris’s belly. His other hand clutched the edge of the work table and Chris stared down at him, blue eyes pale in the light of the garage.

 

“Peter, fuck, I’m going to come if you—“

 

Peter pulled off and took in a breath, chuckling as he licked up Chris’s cock, teasing the head. “Not yet, darling.”

 

He got to his feet as he slithered up Chris’s body, reaching up for his kiss. Chris moaned into his mouth, hands grasping Peter’s back as he pulled him closer. Peter couldn’t stop smiling as Chris kissed him, licking at his tongue, at his lips, kissing down his neck and nipping at him with teasing bites.

 

“I forgot what a goddamn tease you are.”

 

“ _Mmmm_ …if you break skin, you’ll claim me,” he said, chuckling.

 

“Maybe I should,” Chris husked against his ear, sending a shiver down Peter’s back. “Maybe you’d like that.”

 

“Do you really think _I’m_ that easy?”

 

Chris barked out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“Lies,” he said, smiling widely. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his condoms and his travel-sized lubes, tossing them on the work table.

 

He watched as Chris laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling, gorgeous eyes showing just a hint of blue around black pupils.

 

Peter grabbed his hips and turned Chris around on the work table.

 

“So we’re just going to do this out here?”

 

“Yes,” he said, simply.

 

“We could go to my bedroom.”

 

“Later.”

 

“Well, all right then,” Chris said, letting out a pleased sigh and leaning over the table. He looked over his shoulder at Peter, giving him a saucy wink. “Come on, Peter, what’re you waiting for?”

 

Peter grinned, running his hands down Chris back, tracing a few faded scars on his skin. He slipped his thumbs along the seam of his ass, spreading him open to look at his hole, rosy and surrounded by soft hairs. He stroked his thumb over the rim and laughed when Chris groaned, falling on top of the table.

 

“You’re still so sensitive,” he said, watching Chris’s legs shake. “I bet I could make you come…if I slip the tip of my thumb inside of you.”

 

“Jesus,” Chris drawled, breathlessly.

 

“Don’t come yet, Christopher, I want to be inside you when you do.”

 

He watched as Chris reached for his own cock, probably squeezing the base to keep from coming too quick. Peter undid his jeans and pulled out his hard cock. He reached for one of the condom foils and ripped it open, slipping it down over the head and closing his eyes in pleasure as he stroked the cool latex down his length.

 

When he opened his eyes to get one of the packets of lube, he found Chris watching him over his shoulder, a smile curving his lips.

 

“Next time, you can take me to your bedroom and fuck me for as long as you want,” he said, snapping off the tip and pressing it against the rim of Chris’s hole, squeezing the lube into him.

 

“Ohhhh! For fuck’s sake, Peter!”

 

Chris shot him an annoyed look and Peter chuckled, taking hold of his cock and pressing the head against Chris’s opening. He reached up and grabbed one of Chris’s shoulders, holding him steady as he gently pushed the tip inside.

 

Peter gritted his teeth as Chris groaned loudly, arching against Peter’s hold on his shoulder.

 

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck,” he whimpered, trembling all over. He collapsed on top of the work table, shuddering so hard that the table shook under him. “Fuck. Peter.”

 

He wasn’t even an inch inside Chris, but gasped when he felt muscles clench tightly around him. He was slick and hot and tight; Peter wanted nothing more than to thrust deep into him and fuck him until he lost consciousness.

 

It was like the first time he fucked Chris. For a passionate man, Chris had never had a male lover, had never explored that part of himself. So the first time Peter touched him, tongued him, _fucked_ him – Chris was gloriously responsive and so sensitive that he came quickly.

 

With a grin, Peter held Chris down and slid into him slowly, biting his lip to keep from taking Chris the way that he wanted – that would be for later, for when Chris was more used to the sensation of having Peter’s cock inside of him – and eased his cock in a little deeper.

 

Chris clutched the edge of the table, his face pressed against his arm. His other hand moved rhythmically, stroking himself. Peter let go of his shoulder and grabbed him by the hips, thrusting into him all the way.

 

He felt Chris rise up to his toes, arching his back and crying out loudly. Peter pulled back and then slid back into him again, giving a hard thrust and grinding against his ass. He loved that it was still so new for Chris, that the pleasure from just having Peter inside of him made him lose control over his body. While he never wanted Chris to ever become bored with him in bed, Peter did want to help Chris manage his pleasure better, to hold out longer, to beg to be teased.

 

“Oh God,” he grunted, shivering. Peter held him through his pleasure, watching as come dripped down to the workshop floor.

 

Peter smiled, leaning over Chris’s back and kissing his side. “Just like the first time.”

 

Chris laughed, breathless, his voice a little ragged. “Fuck you.”

 

“Definitely later,” he agreed, chuckling.

 

“Are you going to come any time soon or should I just pass out here for a nap?”

 

Peter sighed. “You’re the most demanding little shit I’ve ever met – and I thought Derek’s mate was the most demanding little shit – but no, it’s definitely you.”

 

Chris snickered. “Don’t talk about your nephew with your dick in my ass, Peter.”

 

“ _Hmmm_ …kinky,” he teased, slipping out of Chris gently, his fingers checking the rim as Chris let out a soft noise. He took a step back and rolled off the condom, putting his still hard cock back into his jeans. Chris might come at the first stroke, but Peter like waiting for it, anticipating it.

 

He watched as Chris stood up, stretching his back and raising his arms over his head, twisting and turning.

 

“Looking good, Argent.”

 

“Don’t make fun of this old man, Hale,” he said, reaching down and grabbing his jeans, tugging them up. “Come on, I want to have round two in my bed.” He curled an arm behind Peter’s neck and kissed him, slow and deep. “I’ll suck you slow and when I get hard again, I’ll fuck you the way that you like.”

 

Peter smiled against his mouth. “ _Mmmm_ …let’s see if you remember.”

 

“I remember,” Chris said, looking into his eyes.

 

***

 

There was no doubt of Chris’s memory. Or his imagination.

 

Peter stared at the ceiling, half of his brain still offline, trying to remember something but he was completely distracted from the longest fuck he’d ever had. He teased Chris for coming fast when he got fucked, but give him the reigns and let him top and he had the kind of stamina to keep up with a werewolf. Peter was certain that his werewolf healing hadn’t quite kicked in yet; his ass was actually a little sore.

 

Chris chuckled, his head propped up in his hand. “Back with me, baby?”

 

“I think you broke me,” Peter announced, quite happily.

 

“Just like the first time,” he whispered against Peter’s ear.

 

Peter laughed, turning to look at him. “Touché.”

 

Chris fell back on the bed and they both stared up at the ceiling.

 

“I sent Erica back to New York with the camera and the pictures,” Peter told him, his arm curled over his head, fingers playing with his own hair.

 

“When do you have to be back at the office?”

 

“I cleared two days.”

 

Derek warned him not to be late; Laura laughed so shrilly, Peter’s ears were still ringing.

 

Chris chuckled. “That seems to be the magic number for us.”

 

“Would you have bitten me, drawn my blood?”

 

“Would you have wanted it?”

 

“My family thinks that you’re making it easy for me to court you,” he said, turning his head on the pillow to glance at Chris.

 

“I am,” he said, simply. “I would never invite a werewolf, even a friendly one, to my home. This is my den; and I’m responsible for everyone on my ranch.” He turned and stared at Peter. “If I didn’t trust you, if I thought this was only a fling…if I didn’t think you’d take me as a mate, I never would’ve asked you here.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You know, I have a number of real estate properties in New York.”

 

Peter smiled. “Talia has always wanted me to take over the Los Angeles headquarters of Hale Entertainment.”

 

“You love the city.”

 

“You love the ranch.”

 

Chris turned and curled his arm under his head. “We could always just run away together to Madrid.”

 

“Rio.”

 

“Bali.”

 

“London.”

 

“Sydney.”

 

“Singapore.”

 

“Toronto.”

 

“ _Mmmm_ …Athens.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Peter turned on his side, propping up his head with his hand. “I’m sure the magazine owes me several hundreds of hours of vacation time and unused sick days. I’m sure Derek can run the magazine without destroying everything that I created.”

 

Chris snorted and laughed into the crook of his arm. “You’re going to have to meet Allison and Victoria.”

 

“They’re going to love me,” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Eventually.”

 

Peter laughed and Chris shifted closer towards him, kissing along Peter’s neck. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, giving Chris room to continue unhindered. It was up to Chris now; Peter would let him decide. Neither of them was in any hurry; and Peter wanted the time to put together a courtship that would be worthy of Chris Argent.

 

Chris nipped his neck with a sharp bite.

 

“Ouch!” Peter grinned, meeting his eyes. “You’re such a tease.”

 

“I think you should fuck me this time,” Chris said, eyes winking in delight. “And then you can tell me all the ways that you plan to court me. It should last about a year, you know, being the Argent Patriarch and all. I can’t let the world think that you could charm me that easily.”

 

Peter rolled them so that he was over Chris, tucking his knees between Chris’s legs. “Yes, I like the sound of that.”

 

“Which part?”

 

He smirked. “All of it. Whatever you want.”

 

THE END.

 

[ ](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/USETHISCOVER.png.html)

 

 

JR Bourne Photos Source: <http://www.rikerbrothers.com/#/%20CELEBRITY/MEN/1>

Neckz-n-Throats Magazine Cover Art Credit: <http://eeames.tumblr.com/post/49147161713>

 

 


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